


Nick and Nonna

by crna_macka



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-15 06:08:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7211000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crna_macka/pseuds/crna_macka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now presenting Nick and Nonna's Infinite Drabble List</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a brotp.

It’s nice being with someone who isn’t questioning her own sexuality, Nicole remembers. Not that she would hold it against a girl - not that she would hold it against _Waverly_ \- but it’s a pleasant change of pace to not carry so much of the burden of being the responsible one. She can drive out to the middle of nowhere, do tequila shots until she’s seeing double of the Milky Way, and sleep until dawn in the bed of a truck, only to be awakened by the butt of a gun digging into her hip as the body next to her pushes closer in the early morning chill. But since the body is Wynonna’s, it doesn’t matter what Nicole might do, she will _always_ be the responsible one by comparison.

“Jesus, Nonna,” Nicole mutters groggily. “Put that thing away.” She tries to twist around to fix the belt without completely dislodging her maybe-sort of-new partner - but Wynonna regains enough consciousness that they both freeze with Nicole halfway to loosening the buckle. 

“You first,” Wynonna finally says. Gracious as ever with dry humor and a sly, sleepy smirk when Nicole’s sure fingers suddenly fumble.


	2. Rawr! (It Means 'I Love You' in Dinosaur)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize in advance for this sickeningly sweet fluffnugget. The start of the Plastic Dinosaurs AU.

When Waverly has her demons under tight control, they all spend a weekend at Nicole’s sister’s house. Nicole because she hasn’t seen her family in months and would rather they _not_ visit Purgatory, Waverly because she’s Nicole’s girlfriend and has never _left_ Purgatory, and Wynonna because Nicole and Waverly agree, she shouldn’t be alone in Purgatory.

“Great, so you want me to third wheel it up to Calgary and do what all weekend? Teach your nieces how to shotgun?”

Nicole pushes down her rising annoyance. She does want Wynonna to come. She wishes Waverly had been a little more diplomatic in extending the invitation; Nedley doesn’t care what his newest deputy and the Earp girls get up to anymore, as long as he doesn’t have to see or hear about it.

“I’ll buy your coffee for two weeks if you can at least try to have some completely PG fun for two days.”

“Make it three and PG-13 and I’ll only complain while we’re in the car,” Wynonna counters.

* * *

Wynonna mostly sleeps while they’re in the car, and Waverly whispers her worries whenever she and Nicole are alone. “Look, you don’t understand, Wynonna doesn’t know _how_ to socialize with _normal people_. Normal families. Real humans, outside of Purgatory. Making words that are nice and not totally weird or negative. Oh god, your sister is going to _hate…_ us both.”

Nicole tried to soothe Waverly the first few times, but now just continues whatever she’s doing.

“I have it on good authority that she managed to spend time in Europe without causing an international incident,” Nicole deadpans after one furtive panic session in the basement-turned-guestroom.

“That’s only because Europeans don’t care if you’re polite company.”

Nicole laughs as she finishes pulling back her hair and reflexively checking it in the bathroom mirror, even though it’s not a braid and she’s not on-duty. The thought crosses her mind that Wynonna hasn’t been nearly as awkward as Waverly here, in her sister’s suburban home.

* * *

The three of them sleep downstairs, Nicole and Waverly on the air mattress and Wynonna on the couch. But the couch is empty when Nicole stirs to use the bathroom in the morning, and her curiosity wakes her up enough to sneak upstairs instead of back to bed. The tiptoeing around is more for Waverly’s sake than anything else, but it has the added benefit of allowing her a glimpse of, well–

Wynonna, sitting on the living room’s carpeted floor with a blanket around her shoulders and a plastic dinosaur in either hand. She’s smiling down at one of Nicole’s nieces, sprawled on her belly on the floor and commanding a giant triceratops as she rattles off a very detailed explanation of how these three dinosaurs became friends even though one of them has a million teeth and _eats people_ \- and Nicole feels an unfamiliar tightness in her chest, a shaky smile curving her own lips as she soaks it in.

Oblivious to their audience, Wynonna makes tiny “rawr” noises as her two little dinosaurs dance across the imaginary field with the triceratops and grins at the child’s answering giggles.

 _She isn’t your Earp,_ Nicole reminds herself. She’s reluctant to leave this magically unguarded scene, but she forces herself to silently retrace her steps. Just short of lying back down, back next to Waverly, her gaze slips traitorously through the shadows to the couch, where there’s only room for one.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another entry in the Plastic Dinosaurs AU.

This is not how Nicole expected to wake up. Sprawled on her sister’s couch with Waverly, yes; that’s how they fell asleep that afternoon. Not to the sight of Wynonna on the floor with a book, a kid pressed against each arm as she reads out loud by the Christmas tree lights; that’s new. Nicole doesn’t stir. She lets herself come awake slowly, stays quiet, listening to the gentle cadence Wynonna uses with the nieces, watching the reds and blues and yellows reflect in the loose curl of Wynonna’s hair.

Haley is going to kill her. Nicole. And maybe not kill her, but she’ll say something. Nicole will _wish_ she was dead from the guilt.

Or maybe she’ll die before her sister says anything. Because Wynonna’s gaze flicks up as she’s turning the page and she catches Nicole looking. Watching. And even without knowing whether Wynonna has guessed, Nicole feels the shame burning in her face and gut. Then, there it is, a realization that makes Wynonna stumble over the final lines of text.

“… _The End_ ,” it concludes, and Wynonna snaps the book shut, covering any misgivings with playfulness as she focuses on the girls and ignores Nicole. Just steadfastly refuses to look away from the kids.

Nicole, for her part, ignores the figure now leaning in the doorway to the hall. She ignores the painful clatter of her heart against her chest and tucks her chin against the top of Waverly’s head. She’d go back to sleep if she could. Write it off as a weird, hazy dream; ignore that this feeling is painfully real.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A kiss because I have literally been watching you all night and I can’t take anymore.

Wynonna traces the wet lip of the bottle with her thumb. She’d rather be staring at the bottom of the glass or up at the wooden beams of the ceiling, but no, her traitorous gaze keeps finding its way to the redhead across the room. And sometimes, she’s caught Nicole looking away. She thought, anyway; it’s harder to tell with women, which way they’re looking.

But now, by this hour - Nicole is asleep, or dozed off, or faking it with her eyes closed, and Wynonna reminds herself that Waverly is at the homestead, alone, hopefully dreaming of better days. Better days wouldn’t include Wynonna grinding on her ex, her own sister’s first girlfriend, less than a week after their breakup.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Wynonna whines at herself, tilting her head back and pinching the bridge of her nose. She can’t unsee that image now. She and Nicole coming back to the apartment after work, the way they sometimes do anyway, but then with the little domestic touches - metaphorically and literally - and the kind of intimate fucking situation that goes with it.

“Stop,” she whispers at herself. “Just fucking _stop_.”

Watching Nicole sleep and wanting to nudge her to go to bed. Join her there.

Wynonna sets the empty bottle down a little too hard. Nicole twitches and comes awake too quickly.

“Nonna?”

Wynonna gives a thin, humorless smile that Nicole probably can’t even see. “Back to sleep, Nic. Was just heading out.”

Nicole mumbles and settles back on the cushions, and it’s all Wynonna can do to pry herself out of her chair and collect her jacket. She’ll make it to the door, she tells herself, and let the cold pre-dawn air do the rest. She will, but first her feet take her past the couch.

“I’ll lock up,” Wynonna says quietly. Nicole doesn’t stir or respond, breathing even again. And idiot that she is, Wynonna leans down to kiss her temple.

She doesn’t make it a step before Nicole’s blind reach lands on her knee.

“Jus’ stay?” Nicole suggests blearily.

Wynonna looks down, but Nicole hasn’t opened her eyes. Wynonna Earp might have a lump in her throat, but the deputy isn’t even bothered enough to be awake.

So Wynonna doesn’t answer. She takes her guilty conscience to the door. When she leaves, she locks that mistake away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: In the dark kiss

Of all the things Nicole imagined herself doing after finding out about the cursed, eternal strangeness of Purgatory, climbing a tree in the middle of a field in the middle of the night by the light of a full moon was not among them. Crazier things, for sure. This particular mundane insanity, no. But this is where Waverly said Wynonna had gone to half-mad and half-drunk, and Waverly herself was worried but stubborn about not coming here herself.

Getting involved in Earp affairs is like herding cats. Nicole snorts at her own foolishness as the wooden ladder bites her fingers. Unfortunately, she likes cats. And cats that don’t like other people tend to like her. She takes responsibility for that.

At the top, she takes a moment to catch her breath, then knocks before letting herself in. She isn’t going to give Wynonna a chance to shut her out after that effort. She might be foolish, but she’s not a complete idiot.

Despite the light outside, the interior is dimmer. Rather than taking a moment to let her eyes adjust, she lets her cell phone light the room.

And there’s Wynonna, propped in one corner, squinting and hand raised against the bright glow. “You mind?”

“What are you doing?” Nicole sighs, turning the light away but not off.

“Come in, have a seat,” Wynonna says with a sarcastic flourish. She keeps her head turned away. Nicole’s been around enough to know when Wynonna is drunk. This tone doesn’t fit.

Conveniently, the wreckage caught in Nicole’s light doesn’t look sturdy enough to sit on. She takes the excuse to move the bottle from the floor next to Wynonna and take its place. Given that it’s much heavier than she had expected from Waverly’s account, she lets herself take a familiar sip. “What’s all this?”

She hears Wynonna sniff, catches a glint on her cheek before Wynonna reaches across her and kills the phone’s light. “It’s a treehouse,” Wynonna says, matter-of-fact. “Just a goddamn treehouse.”

“Yeah,” Nicole says. As a conciliatory gesture, she sets her phone with Wynonna’s bottle. “It’s a hell of a climb.”

Wynonna exhales, and Nicole can feel her shift. “I think that’s the point.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

“ _No_.” Wynonna’s laugh is short and cracks at the end, and Nicole looks at her even though she can barely see. Wynonna wipes her face with the back of her hand. Nicole waits.

“Bobo kept Willa here.”

“Oh,” Nicole breathes.

“Yeah. ‘Oh.’ I do you all the favor of going off alone to give a shit about killing my own  _sister_.”

Nicole knows how to bite her tongue.

“…and yet you show up here too.”

“If you wanted to be alone, you could have said so.”

“When has that ever worked on you, flatfoot?” Nicole can’t see her eyes, but she’s sure Wynonna’s gaze is accusatory. In more ways than one.

Nicole came all the way up here, but she doesn’t rise to the bait. “Can I tell you something, Wynonna?”

“I can’t stop you.”

“If you wanted to be a dick, you could,” Nicole points out.

Wynonna’s brittle chuckle isn’t watery, at least. “Oh, Officer Haught. There are so many things wrong with that statement.”

“There you go.”

In the tense moment of silence that follows, Nicole unravels her irritation. She wants to be sincere; she doesn’t want Wynonna heading her off, the way she always does. So Nicole gathers up the inklings of frustration and lets them out in a sigh. “You don’t have to be alone. That’s why. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Worried about what I might do?” Wynonna’s bite is feeble, but Nicole knows she can’t help trying.

“Yeah, worried about you,” Nicole says, not letting anything but sincerity in her tone.

Wynonna stiffens and pulls away from Nicole’s side. “Joke’s on you,” Wynonna says bitterly. “I’m a ticking bomb with people or without.”

“So what?” Nicole says. “That’s not news, Nonna.”

In the dark, without the benefit of sight or even feeling the change in posture, Nicole doesn’t know what’s coming. Wynonna suddenly in her lap, straddling her thighs, fingers clenched in her collar, pulling her roughly forward.

The kiss has bite, that’s for sure. Like Wynonna just wanted to sink her teeth in and make it hurt, but forgot that her own lips are soft and her tongue soothing over the scrape, or that the dig of her nails on Nicole’s sternum feel more like foreplay than fight.

And just when Nicole thinks she’s forgetting the bite in the wake of the kiss, Wynonna suddenly remembers to shove her away, back into the wall. Nicole gasps at the impact and the need for air, but she makes a point of leaving her hands on Wynonna’s knees, keeping her there.

“That,” she says carefully, licking her swollen lower lip, feeling her own skin prickle hearing the roughness in her voice. She squares her shoulders and lightens her touch, palms smoothing up seams of denim to rest on Wynonna’s narrow hips. “That isn’t news either.”

The weight briefly lifts from her thighs, and she hears liquid slosh as Wynonna tilts the reclaimed bottle to her mouth. But that return to drinking isn’t what leaves a rock weighing in Nicole’ stomach. It’s the barely audible, “Maybe not to you,” that reaches to her core.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: First kiss

Wynonna has been back in Purgatory long enough to know that she won’t be needed here beyond breaking the curse, so when her kill list dips below twenty remaining revenants and Dolls suggests she come along to his next supernatural hotspot assignment, she shrugs and says, “You’ve been to mine; only fair to let me find yours.”

Dolls gave her one of his rare, genuine grins, and then they sent another rev head back to hell.

Henry would get over it.

Waverly would get over it.

Purgatory has long since been over it. Over her. Whatever; the town would be safe and quiet, and and Wynonna is confident that at least some of Nedley’s deputies and the motley crew of others she’s met can take care of the occasional turn of the worm. Or whatever.  _Whatever_.

She’s started looking at her things and idly wondering if they’re things she’ll pack or things she’ll leave behind. She sleeps in the barn as often as she sleeps in her bed. She’s going to take her motorcycle; Dolls will just have to deal with it if he actually wants her on the front lines. And if he can’t handle sharing her affection, then she’ll choose the bike, hands down. She’s been way more intimate with it than with him, after all.

Wynonna can’t be bothered with shame or embarrassment when Nicole walks in on her cooing over the motorcycle. “Waves just headed into town. Didn’t you see her on the road?”

“You’re  _leaving_?”

Wynonna looks up from the spot she’s cleaning off the chrome and realizes maybe she should stand up. Obviously not hiding anything. “No? No. I mean, demons to kill, hellfires to burn. Right? Job’s not done. Duh, flatfoot.”

But Nicole is pacing, fuming, hands on her hips. “I mean, what, you’re  _going_ to leave? You’re  _planning_ to leave, already, as soon as you hit your seventy-seven. What the hell, Wynonna?”

Dolls might have said something. Or maybe Doc caught on.

“Someone asked me to go somewhere that I’m actually wanted. It’s the dream.”

“What about the past couple of years makes you think you aren’t wanted here?”

“Aww, Nicole, I’m touched, but I think you’re seriously overestimating Waverly’s capacity to share her toys.”

Wynonna had meant to put the other woman on the defensive with her teasing, but the embarrassment on Nicole’s face looks less like anger and more like shame. Trying to read through the implications makes Wynonna squint and stutter. “Or, like, your ability to juggle. I mean, Nedley didn’t actually make the whole department go to clown school, right?”

“Could you be serious for just one second?” Nicole snaps, but Wynonna’s ears pick up a hint of a plea. Chastised and flustered by it, she looks away, back at her bike, then back to Nicole.

“You came all the way out here to yell at me?”

“No!” Nicole resumes pacing, making her safe to look at again. The tips of her ears are bright, bright red. Wynonna tries to clear her throat, starting to feeling antsy herself.

“No?” she pushes when Nicole doesn’t offer any other explanation.

“No,” Nicole repeats. “No, I came to see if I could talk you out of it.”

Wynonna scoffs and folds her arms over her chest. “Doing a real bang-up job of it, congrats.”

“Well, maybe I could’ve stuck to the plan, but I wasn’t expecting…” Nicole throws her hands up in an encompassing gesture that clarifies nothing. But then she turns on heel, facing Wynonna again. “So if Dolls stays, you stay? Because you’re, what, dating? Partners? Engaged?”

“No - maybe - I don’t know. What does it matter?” Wynonna frowns. “You get that everyone in this town still thinks I’m a crazy murderer, yeah? And maybe everything that’s happened since I inherited the curse has reinforced that as a fact?”

A few quick strides while Wynonna is talking is all it takes for Nicole to get around the front wheel and into Wynonna’s space. “Maybe if you stick around and do something other than shoot at people for a while–”

“It’s a job.”

“It’s Dolls’ job, not yours. When the curse is over, you don’t have to keep chasing it.”

Nicole is taller. Just a smidge. But this close, Wynonna doesn’t like having to look up at her, even a little bit. She doesn’t like having to  _look_ at her.

“Jesus, Nic, I don’t know what it matters to–”

Nicole cuts her off. Physically. With her mouth, with fingers digging into her hips, with a lot more force than Wynonna would have expected, if she’d expected it at all. But she couldn’t have - she couldn’t have anticipated Nicole  _kissing_ her. Or Nicole’s grip softening from holding her there, to pulling her  _there_ , and Wynonna letting her. Until they both have to stop to catch their breath, and Wynonna isn’t entirely sure where they were in this conversation, just that–

Nicole backs away, wrist pressed to her lips. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

Wynonna can only blink. “Sorry?”

“If you’re leaving… I can’t…”

“If that’s how it is, I don’t think either of us can stay.” Wynonna pushes her fingers through her hair, trying to will the brain under her scalp to work. Faster. “Jesus, Nic. I don’t know if  _anywhere_ is far enough away.”


End file.
